🛡️ Inquisitor Alleyana Tabris of Clan Lavellan (
inquisitor_lavellan) wrote in
genessia2016-09-24 03:21 pm
Entry tags:
[ action | open ] all my friends are heathens, take it slow
( OOC: Takes place after the cure. )
Scenario 01 - Attleton - from green palm to green thumb
This was either a home improvement store, or a gardening shop. Either way, Alleyana had figured out what the shopping carts were for and pulled one along behind her with her singular hand, zeroing in on the area that sold pots. She'd need... hm... eight. Eight of the biggest ones she could find. And soil to fill them. And a way to make a small trellis for a few of them that would be growing vines...
Lost in these thoughts, Alley barely even paid attention to the way the locals looked at her, stomping through their store in full armor like she was, with a huge shield on her back and a bar for a left arm. Attleton locals just weren't used to such a sight, though if anyone stared for too long she lifted her head to look back, automatically on guard.
Scenario 02 - Genessia City - bloody days ahead
Alleyana cursed colorfully in elvhen, kneeling down beside a pond in one of Genessia's larger parks. There was a good deal of blood on her, and she started scooping up water in her singular, gauntlet-encased hand to rinse it off her armor, and finally her face. Her face was... well, it kept producing more blood. She probed at the gash on her forehead with armored fingers, her upper lip curling in a sneer as blood kept trying to drip into her eye. It would need stitches, she thought. Great. It wasn't worth expending an elfroot potion on, not while her supply was limited. Perhaps Cole would be able to stitch it for her...
Drip, drip.
"Fenedhis lasa!" she snapped, taking another palm full of water and splashing it on the gash to rinse out the newest drippings. It was a losing battle, and she knew it.
Scenario 03 - Genessia City [ locked to housemates: Merrill, Cole ] - down time
The Inquisitor emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She was dressed down, for once, presently in a blue tanktop with the words 'shit happens' on it and a pair of bright red cotton pajama pants. Three necklaces were draped from her neck, usually hidden beneath her armor or the clothing she wore beneath it. One was a large key, one was a crystal orb, and one was a blackened jaw-bone on two leather cords. The gaudy thing meant to mark her as 'real' was in the bathroom along with her usual armor and clothing, which was drying over the bath-tub. Once she'd been done scrubbing herself down, she'd done the same for her gear before draining the tub.
Her hair was down, with a towel draped over her shoulders and down her back attempting to keep the long mass of brown and grey from soaking her anew from behind. It was a lot longer than it looked like it ought to be when it was all braided and bound up, and having it down softened some of the hardness of her appearance, even soaked as it was.
The stump of her left arm was exposed, the dragonbone bar still attached where it threaded straight into the bone. The skin around it was gnarled and scarred, with traces of those scars going up and over her elbow and bicep like lightning bolts captured in flesh. And there was something... wrong, about her bare right hand. There were scars from puncture wounds -- nails -- and burns and... just a general wrongness to the shape.
Alleyana plopped down into one of the armchairs of the living room, shutting her eyes for a moment and waiting for the weakness the hot water had instilled in her to pass.
Scenario 01 - Attleton - from green palm to green thumb
This was either a home improvement store, or a gardening shop. Either way, Alleyana had figured out what the shopping carts were for and pulled one along behind her with her singular hand, zeroing in on the area that sold pots. She'd need... hm... eight. Eight of the biggest ones she could find. And soil to fill them. And a way to make a small trellis for a few of them that would be growing vines...
Lost in these thoughts, Alley barely even paid attention to the way the locals looked at her, stomping through their store in full armor like she was, with a huge shield on her back and a bar for a left arm. Attleton locals just weren't used to such a sight, though if anyone stared for too long she lifted her head to look back, automatically on guard.
Scenario 02 - Genessia City - bloody days ahead
Alleyana cursed colorfully in elvhen, kneeling down beside a pond in one of Genessia's larger parks. There was a good deal of blood on her, and she started scooping up water in her singular, gauntlet-encased hand to rinse it off her armor, and finally her face. Her face was... well, it kept producing more blood. She probed at the gash on her forehead with armored fingers, her upper lip curling in a sneer as blood kept trying to drip into her eye. It would need stitches, she thought. Great. It wasn't worth expending an elfroot potion on, not while her supply was limited. Perhaps Cole would be able to stitch it for her...
Drip, drip.
"Fenedhis lasa!" she snapped, taking another palm full of water and splashing it on the gash to rinse out the newest drippings. It was a losing battle, and she knew it.
Scenario 03 - Genessia City [ locked to housemates: Merrill, Cole ] - down time
The Inquisitor emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. She was dressed down, for once, presently in a blue tanktop with the words 'shit happens' on it and a pair of bright red cotton pajama pants. Three necklaces were draped from her neck, usually hidden beneath her armor or the clothing she wore beneath it. One was a large key, one was a crystal orb, and one was a blackened jaw-bone on two leather cords. The gaudy thing meant to mark her as 'real' was in the bathroom along with her usual armor and clothing, which was drying over the bath-tub. Once she'd been done scrubbing herself down, she'd done the same for her gear before draining the tub.
Her hair was down, with a towel draped over her shoulders and down her back attempting to keep the long mass of brown and grey from soaking her anew from behind. It was a lot longer than it looked like it ought to be when it was all braided and bound up, and having it down softened some of the hardness of her appearance, even soaked as it was.
The stump of her left arm was exposed, the dragonbone bar still attached where it threaded straight into the bone. The skin around it was gnarled and scarred, with traces of those scars going up and over her elbow and bicep like lightning bolts captured in flesh. And there was something... wrong, about her bare right hand. There were scars from puncture wounds -- nails -- and burns and... just a general wrongness to the shape.
Alleyana plopped down into one of the armchairs of the living room, shutting her eyes for a moment and waiting for the weakness the hot water had instilled in her to pass.

3
He stayed silent for now, not wanting to interrupt her momentary peace.
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The warrior re-opened her eyes, not surprised to see Cole there. She'd had years to get used to his ways, after all.
"Hello, Cole," she greeted, "they have hot water here that just pours out of the spigot." No need for lighting fires or carrying buckets! "And it drains away without making a mess. Isn't that something?"
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"I like your hair..." He said once the surprise wore off. He'd seen it down plenty, of course, but it was still a rare sight. And, well, he did like it! Up or down.
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Solas had probably been right to walk away, all his plans aside. He was an immortal, and she was decidedly not.
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"Do you not like it?"
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"Whatever vanity I may have had once has long since been beaten out of me," Alleyana said it bluntly, looking down at her stump and hand. "I don't mind it. I keep it long because my mother liked it long, and it makes for good helmet padding."
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"People think mean things about my face too, now they can remember it." Cole didn't sound bothered, he didn't really cared.
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"It's not bad. I wish people would be nice about my hat instead." Priorities.
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3
Today she lost track of time in that cute little garden park in Genessia: cloud watching, dipping her toes in the water, picking flowers...
So it was no surprise that when she entered back into the apartment with dirty feet (though covered again with sandals) and a handful of flowers in hand. Except she wasn't expecting to see Alleyana so...dressed down. She rarely even saw Hawke like that and she had known Hawke for much longer.
"Oops, sorry." She gave a small laugh, patting down her hair. "Didn't mean to intrude on any down time like..." She looked down at herself and brushed off a little dirt with her free hand. "Well, like this. Since you deserve some time to yourself, after all."
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The Inquisitor was much... smaller, without her ever-present armor. But she was still formidable, and knew it, and wasn't concerned. A predator at rest was still a predator.
That tank-top showed off as many scars on her muscular arms and shoulders as there were on her face. Armor hadn't been a luxury she'd always had, after all.
"What did you get up to, today?"
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And that was meant as a compliment. And a little self-deprecating humor toward herself about her lack of work. Or smaller workload. "As for myself, just a little of this and a little of that. I found my way through the city much better this time!"
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Alley watched Merrill scrounge around for... something. The apartment had come furnished; the Inquisitor hadn't changed much about it and wasn't attached to its look one way or another. "That's good, getting lost too much in a city is dangerous, even for a mage."
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She shrugged and went to look through a different cabinet. "I found so many interesting things that way. Like the Viscount's personal gardens. Or how many people don't pay any more attention to where they're going than I did. And that's too bad. I know whenever we took on extra work, someone's kneecaps would be busted. Well, if they lived."
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"Oh, why wouldn't I be pragmatic about it?" she said. "It's not like I didn't much of the same sort following Hawke all around Kirkwall. I just don't think we were actually paid some times. But I think Varric usually fixed that." She sighed. "It really is too bad he isn't here at the moment. Or maybe it's a good thing. I can't really tell..."
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2
He'd feel shitty for leaving her there, bleeding, and he'd get shit for that, so he had no choice, really. He stamped out his cigarette on the sidewalk and made his way across the grass to stand a safe distance behind her. There was no need to risk getting whacked in the shins.
"You don't have a helmet?" he asked, sounding bored.
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Ugh. She took another palm full of water and splashed the gash again, her eyes shut against both blood and water. This was so aggravating.
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"Get up." Sanzo would have walked off after that, but he couldn't be sure she'd follow. He had to stop getting attached to people used to more authority than he had. It was frustrating when he wanted them to follow him without having to spell things out.
~friendship~ (I wrote friendshit first WHICH ALSO WORKS)
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"Get. Up. Or keep bleeding in a park, whatever suits you," he snapped down at her.
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"Follow. That needs stitches." He did turn to leave this time, assuming she'd have the sense to actually do as he said.
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